Sturm
by Corpse In Bright Clothing
Summary: A series of poems for the movies, also drawing inspiration from the soundtracks.
1. Scourge

**Scourge** [Sturm]

* * *

Pulp from pipes, gross, groggy  
breaks the silent midnight hour.  
It proves itself a miracle  
that never blessed anyone else.  
Obscured skies fall, scrub it down,  
to depths that don't resurface.

It's slime, tinkles, it creeps and crawls,  
for hope but to cascade; it stalls.  
It never stops; it's always stopped.  
Face eternity underground, or rather:  
its darkness doesn't call. Oh no:  
it's darkness all alone; it's begging.

You eat; your teeth are made for meat.  
You kill; you stalk till prey is still.  
You're living, dying, underground.  
You scream just so you hear the sound.  
You breathe or consciousness you leave.  
You're crying, prophesying: you die.

You're as soft as a sigh outside.  
But wrecked, crooked; how you pry.  
Within skin sin shines red to din,  
crash, clutter all of light, creating  
the sun of night worshiped in death,  
the son of nothingness with no breath.

We are wicked; we're unholy; we're unspeakably  
far from heaven. We're not demons; only human.  
We are darkness, animals, terror itself. We  
exist. We breathe; we live; we die; we bleed.  
We're sanity, all planes and mental states,  
geometry destroyed. We're creatures - beings.

How we cross all dimensions like crossing a field,  
no measure of wrongness enough cause to yield.  
How cross we all are at each one like our own;  
how dry our eyes in hunting people down.  
We cross our hearts to never let you in,  
hope not to die and let the game begin.


	2. Pensive

**Pensive** [Hello Adam]

* * *

Hello  
dear  
sleepwalker.

Are you waking?  
Are you sleeping?  
Are you screaming?  
Do you hear me?

Oh, descendence for derisiveness,  
as you stumble inside the beauty of filth, rotting, the  
quarry of queerest reason, the rut  
you can't escape.

Hello little baby  
doll.

Oh how adorable you  
are, in breaking.  
Are you drowning?  
Are you crying out  
within your skin, for a change,  
for a chance at a better life -  
to live again? Oh?  
This is it.


	3. Drain

**Drain** [Bite The Hand That Bleeds]

* * *

I pay you trust for your deceit.  
At least I'm holding my receipt.  
Although I've settled in your chain,  
tonight it's you whose blood will drain.

You poor, wounded animal, eyes holding  
only hurt and malice, may the grandness  
of your tragedy not escape you, for  
you certainly cannot escape - yourself.

If you can't have me you're free  
for death to have and hold and  
take away to God-knows-where,  
and we'll all be free of you, too.

After this you'll finally be able to see,  
not just greedily steal as you please like a leech.  
After this your life is gone like me,  
for where you'll go no arms can reach.


	4. Loose

**Loose** [Last I Heard...]

* * *

Buzzing, cold, hollow and heavy,  
throaty voice so low is scary,  
tells of lurking, lives nightmarish,  
how the stranger knows who you are.

Terror, chills, hair  
sticking up; your sins, your fears  
all sneaking up like screams  
climbing up through your trachea in  
hopes of escaping or violently  
breaking you.


	5. Passion?

**Passion?** [Action]

* * *

An animal can move its mouth, indeed,  
but it means nothing, don't you see?  
It moves and it does, shows  
what it means and what it needs.  
It's in action.

You're grovelling in the filth, I see;  
the only other thing you do is say  
that you both can go free,  
that there must be a way,  
yet I've told you what it is -  
such inaction.

See, you're a wimp with well intent  
but won't survive with the rules bent.  
Yes, you're worried; see what I meant  
in the all-inclusive message I sent.

I know this may seem crazy and rough,  
but the job I have for you is easy enough:

Follow the rules.  
Do as I say.  
Suffer the fools.  
Get through the day.

That's what I want.


	6. Openmouthed

**Open-mouthed** [Reverse Beartrap]

* * *

One minute to breathe, just  
one to act; it's about to end.

No. Shake. Violence. Fight.  
Are you about to die?

Run? Crawl? Fly? Just standing there.  
Your hope is in a corner.

There it is: death; your life; your  
vice. You will fight one sin or die  
to speak for another.

Remember. Remember. Remember.

Syringe. Drugs. Blood.  
The knife.  
Your mouth.  
Guts. Guts.  
Can you do it?  
Horror.

The key. You're shaking. Do you have it?

You may not feel it,  
but believe it:  
You're alive.

Alive.  
Alive.  
Alive.


	7. Zombie

**Zombie** [You Make Me Feel So Dead]

* * *

The hole to hell is in your hips.  
A taste of poison haunts our lips.  
Hallucinate the blood un-drips,  
or that we didn't take those sips.  
Imagine the heartbeat un-skips,  
and that from black the mind un-flips.  
Yet for the heat the mouth still rips.  
Assailant mates the one who slips.  
Until the face so soulless chips,  
dark beauty tricks victims it nips.  
Your lullaby tells of the crypts;  
the one dimension more delightful  
would be to date an apocalypse.


	8. Search

**Search** [X Marks The Spot]

* * *

There is a way;  
just break it down  
within the mind  
that's breaking down.

Time is always slipping;  
the dread knowledge chisels  
away your nerves; the sit-  
uation saws your sanity.

Look, look, will you never find it  
or the hope that lies behind it?

Hum, hum, the clock beats like a drum  
as you ponder the reason your head's going numb.


	9. White

**White** [Wonderful World]

* * *

Somnambulism all the way,  
the same story each night and day.

You were wearing white, and you almost looked like you  
were clean. But it was a thin disguise.

You're only in a room  
as small, unnoticeable as your own body, but  
your misery's exumed; it shows.

And now you've been shot.  
Did it ever imagine, that darkly wound mind,  
the pure terror?  
And now you're resigned, just like you always were,  
to lie, forsake your life,  
just like you always did.

You were wearing white, and now you  
wear the filth, and the blood  
that was lurking inside you.

You're trapped now. But do you see?  
Did this trap show? You always were.

You mean nothing, and you always were  
meant to die.

Scream.


	10. Poison

**Poison** [Cigarette]

* * *

You call it beautiful; you call it  
cancer - poison dipped in poison.  
You choose it, playing  
dead; it's such a funny thing -  
such irony.

You must not know what cancer is.

Poor Zep, to endure  
watching you, Adam,  
pretend to end as  
he anticipates -  
not only yours; also his own -  
death through poison.

But you're lucky:  
the doctor spared you.  
And you're right:  
smoking won't kill you.


	11. Bitten

**Bitten** [We're Out Of Time]

* * *

Chaotic - everywhere - not now -  
time is up; the dark angel's coming.

Can't even breathe, we're on our knees;  
we're overloading just to think.

Please, please; wait,  
wait; we can make it!  
Can't we make it?

In the sound of your screams I can feel -  
I can sense it:  
dread;  
we're dead.

We scream together - need  
each other? Nope, and hope  
is not in range.

We have been bitten by the zombie -  
wait till poison makes its change.


	12. Saw

**Saw** [Fuck This Shit]

* * *

Enough.

It's done.

Had enough.

You said you're done.

Your family needs you; you're going  
insane. If only your means of release were  
humane, but you're far beyond reason;  
you're already late, though you're sure  
you could help them if you could escape.

Maybe you can;  
you're trying.

You know what to do.

That's right - all the way through.

Yes, detach it from you.

Hurry, doctor,  
you're dying.

Crawl to where I am lying, for the gun  
you've been eying, as Adam  
who's been lying  
is now begging, near crying.  
Can you do it? You're trying.

You're unsteady; he sidesteps to boot.  
And if you miss the whole thing's moot.  
Apologetic as he dodges,  
what life do you save now, doctor?  
If for your wife and daughter, then  
look down and cry after you  
shoot.

And now it's washing over you.  
Lying here I can feel it, too.

But is it too late?

You've done it, doctor,  
you've done it.


	13. Opossum

**Opossum** [Hello Zepp]

* * *

Rise and shine? Or rather not,  
for we couldn't untie the knot  
that holds you trapped inside your clot  
of darkness. And within my plot:

I played the part of you, Adam,  
acted as if my life was through,  
not precedenting you would, too,  
proving my ascertainment true.

Forsake escape by my tools.  
Play us for a trio of fools.  
Kill the one who followed the rules;  
look like a couple of red ghouls.

Now you know I played the same  
game; 'playing opossum' is its name.  
A fake gunshot wound on my head,  
I watched as poison danced in red.

You've been _playing_ dead  
your whole life, and this time it's  
game over.


	14. Lull

**Lull** [Zepp Overature]

* * *

Alive and you're slipping away.  
You breathe but death do you not sway.  
It's coming to take you away.  
How can you convince it to stay?  
Please stay a-

Wayward, you've worked yourself here, and  
in the solid darkness your screams still you hear;  
death calls you, dear.

So near, but ne'er  
will you give  
your-  
self  
up (the  
curtain's already fallen).

You know death. Yes you are - familiar.  
You've played death, faked out death; you've fucked with it  
Playing dead, playing dead, you _played_ with it.  
Now you're stuck, and surely you understand:

Here  
it  
comes (for you),  
tak-  
ing  
you home  
(never to let go again).  
Here it is (for you),  
taking you home  
(never to let go again).  


* * *

**_End number one._**


	15. Rebel

**Rebel **[Irresponsible Hate Anthem]**  
**

* * *

Don't! No! Fuck!

Acting as if gods,  
always get their way,  
treating us like dogs,  
let us die today.

So we say, may-  
be, everyone deserves to die.  
Someday, they'll  
see; no one left wondering why.

Do not tell us; we're no better.  
For we all know; they told us so.

Is it time to judge the judge - is  
it too late to save the sinners?  
And they bring out the hate;  
set it against us.  
Set the game; we'll be the winners.

Our death sentences overruled,  
hatred grows and we can't subdue it;  
take up arms against the world,  
starting with he who brought us into it.


End file.
